Key to the City

peanut-bill-sealesCommunity pays tribute to ‘Peanut’ Bill Seales

Story by Leigh Pritchett
Photography by Michael Callahan

Aug. 11, 2014, was a run-of-the-mill Monday for probably most people in St. Clair County.

But that was not the case for Bill Seales.

The man lovingly known as “Peanut Bill” had been summoned to the City Council meeting that was to take place that morning.

After the opening prayer and Pledge of Allegiance, Seales was called to the front of the Council chambers, where Mayor Joe Funderburg read a proclamation to “hereby honor a most gallant, courageous son.”

The proclamation calls Seales “a glowing example of determination” and “a model of courage for many Pell Citians.” It notes that he “has demonstrated a strength and desire to overcome many physical restrictions that did not prohibit his willingness and determination to be an independent, productive citizen. … (He) is, and shall always be a respected part of the Pell City family.”

The proclamation further declares Aug. 11, 2014, as “Bill Seales Day” in Pell City.

As Funderburg finished reading the proclamation, thunderous applause and a shout of “We love you, Bill!” erupted, quickly giving way to a standing ovation.

Then, Funderburg presented Seales with a golden key to the city.

Seales flashed his familiar, broad smile and there was another standing ovation.

Though speechless for a moment, Seales graciously responded, “Thank you. Thank you all.”

Cameras from two Birmingham television stations caught the action as an entourage of relatives, friends and well-wishers gathered around Seales outside the Council chambers. Tina Ailor, who is manager of Food Outlet and Seales’ special friend, held his hand.

“We were very honored that Pell City went to this length to recognize him,” said Alice Kennedy, Seales’ cousin.

Through the years, the citizens “were very excited to see Bill” whenever he was selling peanuts “and he was always welcomed with open arms,” Kennedy said.

Seales, who is 66, peddled peanuts around Pell City for nearly 50 years. He started at 17 years of age.

He became part of Pell City’s fabric as he logged thousands of miles on foot or on his three-wheeled cycle, selling his signature items about town. He also had a peanut stand, first at Food World until it permanently closed and then at Food Outlet.

When TV news anchor Mike Royer issued an open forum for anyone to speak, Kathy Phillips of Southside came from the back of the gathering and said she could be silent no longer.

She wiped tears from her eyes as she clipped on a microphone.

Phillips, a cousin, said she and Seales lived in the same house when she was a child.

“Bill has always been an inspiration to me and my family,” Phillips said. “He is one of my lifelong heroes.”

Daily, Seales would go five miles from where they lived on Florida Road into town, walk all around Pell City selling his peanuts and then return home. “That’s how he supported himself,” Phillips said.

Each day, he would bring Phillips a box of Cracker Jacks.

Seales’ independent spirit gave him determination to support himself and his wife, Karen (now deceased). Generously, he has given to his family, the community and the city, Phillips said.

The way Seales has lived is proof that anyone can do anything if the individual tries hard enough, regardless of the adversity he faces, Phillips said.

Shortly after Seales’ birth, a medical situation left him with physical challenges.

Yet, Seales resolved as a child not to allow the challenges to hold him back.

In an article in the February & March 2014 issue of Discover magazine, Seales says he decided early in life to work and support himself.

“I’m going to go forward, if it kills me,” Seales is quoted as saying. “I’ve always wanted to work. The Bible says, ‘Work.’ It never hurt me! … If I hadn’t been peddling peanuts and going and doing, I’d be dead. If you don’t get busy doing something, you won’t make it.”

Seales’ aunt, Geneva Bannister of Pell City, said she could not talk about him without crying. “I love him more than anybody else in the world.”

Funderburg described Seales as “one of the most popular citizens in Pell City” and “an example of courage to a lot of people.”

Because of Seales’ exemplary life, there had been much public support for him to be formally recognized, Funderburg explained. “I felt like (recognition) was something that was overdue.”

When the Council meeting adjourned that morning, the accolades did not end, however.

That afternoon, there was quite a shindig at Golden Living Center in Pell City, which is Seales’ current residence.

The music of Elvis, Bobby Darrin and Chubby Checker created such an upbeat atmosphere that Seales and Gerry Stallworth, the center’s director of rehabilitation, danced together.

After Jamie Lancaster, executive director of Golden Living Center, announced the honor the city had bestowed on Seales, the residents and staff members who filled the dining area applauded heartily.

When Seales got a glimpse of the peanut-shaped cake that awaited him and the bowls of peanuts surrounding it, his big, broad smile flashed once more.

Howard Hill

howard-hill-archerWorld’s Greatest Archer

Story by Jerry C. Smith
Photography by Wallace Bromberg Jr.
Submitted photos

Schoolboys often dream of marrying a favorite teacher, but Howard Hill of Shelby County actually pulled it off and, with her help and support, became a true legend in his own time, the World’s Greatest Archer.

Ashville’s Elizabeth Hodges had taught high school English in Wilsonville, Alabama, where Howard attended. Apparently their attraction was mutual, as he married her a few years later. They had a long, storybook life together, and now lie in final rest beside each other in Ashville’s New Cemetery.

Born in 1899 on a cotton plantation in Shelby County, Howard’s father made archery equipment for him and his four brothers and taught the boys how to use them. Howard grew up using weapons of all kinds, but his bow was always his favorite.

According to Craig Ekin in his book, Howard Hill, The Man And The Legend, Howard killed his first rabbit at age five and, in his excitement to show his folks the game he’d brought home for supper, left his bow in a cotton field. It took three days to find it.

Howard entered Auburn’s veterinary school at age 19, but did so well in sports that animal medicine was soon sidelined. A tall, powerful young man who excelled at anything athletic, he lettered in baseball, basketball and football, earning the nickname of Wild Cat.

Howard didn’t neglect his archery interests while at school, often slipping away on weekends for long target practice sessions which, according to Ekin, usually involved shooting some 700 to 800 arrows. Howard was so appreciative of his years at Auburn that he created a college archery program at the school after his retirement. Many of his artifacts are now displayed on campus.

In 1922, Howard moved into Southern League semi-pro baseball, often playing pro golf in off-season. It was about this time that he married Elizabeth, which Ekin describes as the best move Howard ever made. “Libba,” as he called her, realized from the start that archery was Howard’s destiny, and she encouraged him at every opportunity.

howard-hill-errol-flynnNiece Margaret Hodges McLain describes her Aunt Elizabeth as a perfect southern belle whose petite stature only made Uncle Howard seem that much larger. Mrs. McLain recalls the Hills visiting Ashville during breaks from movie work.

Howard often cooked meat entrees for family gatherings by the same method used on safari in Africa. He would dig a pit in the ground, build a big fire in it, then place meat wrapped in wet cheesecloth among the coals, cover it up, and let it cook all day, a process similar to Hawaii’s imu pits used at luaus.

While waiting for dinner, Howard would set up hay bales for targets, and demonstrated his many archery skills and trick shots. Margaret recalls seeing him shoot tossed dimes from the air, as well as helping the youngsters learn archery. Howard was well-respected in Elizabeth’s home town, where the local theater showed many of his films and short subjects.

Three years after their marriage, the Hills moved to Opa Locka, Florida, where Howard worked as a machinist at Hughes Tool Company, founded by the father of aviation pioneer Howard Hughes. While there, he read a book called The Witchery Of Archery, by Maurice Thompson, that inspired Howard to set forth on a path that would bring him worldwide fame and set new records, many of them unbroken to this day.

Howard made his first bow while working at Hughes. It wasn’t a very good one, but it signaled the start of a new career direction in archery. He continued making bows and arrows and working in the machine shop until 1932, when their California experience actually began.

Ekin relates that Howard was approached by famed newspaper editorial writer Arthur Brisbane, who wanted the Hills to move to his desert ranch near Barstow, California. Howard was to coach his sons in physical sports, while Elizabeth would tutor them in academics.

After Howard’s one-year contract ended on the Brisbane ranch, he went to Hollywood, intent on making a documentary film he had written, called The Last Wilderness. It emphasized hunting America’s big game rather than spending fortunes on jungle safaris.

The film was a quick success, made entirely outdoors without using a single studio set. Howard’s amazing archery skills were featured as he brought down every kind of large game animal in the American wild country. For the next year or so, he tirelessly promoted this movie by making personal appearances at each showing, dazzling his audiences during intermissions with incredible demonstrations of pinpoint accuracy.

Among Howard’s amazing feats were shooting dozens of arrows, rapid fire, into the exact center of a target from 45 feet, not only from a standing stance, but also lying on his back, side, belly, and from between his legs. His arrows often got damaged in these stunts because they were grouped so tightly there was scarcely room for them all in the target’s tiny center spot.

Howard also appealed physically to his audiences. At more than 6 feet tall, his muscular build and dashing good looks would have easily qualified him for leading roles in movies. He was immensely strong, able to pull any bow with ease. In fact, some of his bows were so powerful they took two men to string them unless he did it himself.

howard-hill-elizabethOne of Howard’s first major records was a long arrow flight of more than 391 yards, set in 1928 using a bow with a draw weight of 172 pounds that he built for the feat. He could keep seven arrows in the air at one time, and split a falling arrow with another.

Some favorite stunts were shooting at small objects in midair such as coins, rings, wasps, etc, shooting cigarettes out of some brave soul’s mouth, rolling a barrel down a hill and firing an arrow into its bunghole, splitting narrow sticks with arrows, shooting birds from high in the air, striking a match with one arrow, then extinguishing it with the next, shooting two arrows at once to burst two separate balloons, ricocheting arrows off wooden boards to hit a target, and breaking several balloons consecutively that had been blown up inside each other.

When asked how he hit moving targets so easily, Howard replied, “You have to train your eye to look at a single spot. If it’s a man, you look at a shirt button; if it’s a Coca Cola sign, you look at the center of an O. You have to look at infinite spots.”

Ekin remarks that when Howard was “looking at a spot,” his eye would appear as if it were literally going to pop right out of its socket. One thing that caught your writer’s notice in Hill documentaries was the way he laughed and joked with bystanders, but the minute his bow came into full draw, a dead-serious look would suddenly appear on his face. As soon as the arrow was loosed, however, he immediately became jovial again. It’s like he was two different people.

Howard’s hunting skills were legendary. He killed more than 2,000 large-game animals with his bow, including a rogue bull elephant. Taught to hunt by a Seminole Indian, he could track any kind of creature, often dispatching it with one arrow from a distance that would have challenged a gun hunter. Elizabeth often accompanied him on safaris and other big game hunts.

But despite his predatory skills, the man was not without a sense of humor. According to Ekin, on one western hunting trip he fooled his comrades into thinking they were eating veal brought from home when it was actually a wild burro he had shot the previous day and cooked in his signature fire pit.

Another time, Howard slipped a fox into a huge kettle of rabbit stew. On yet another trip, Howard and his companions were perturbed by a fellow hunter’s thunderous snoring, which continued despite all attempts to gently waken him. Finally, Howard simply rolled him, sleeping bag and all, into an icy creek.

His skills and uncanny accuracy soon caught the eye of Hollywood producers in 1937, when Warner Brothers was shooting The Adventures of Robin Hood. This high-dollar movie starred Basil Rathbone and Errol Flynn (for our younger readers, Flynn was sort of like today’s Kevin Costner, but far more macho). Facing a select group of some 50 accomplished archers who tested for the movie’s arrow shots, Howard easily topped them all in accuracy.

According to Ekin, director William Keighley told Howard, “You’re hired. Tell the head property man what equipment you want and report Monday to teach 22 actors and six principals how to shoot.”

Howard made many shots with the camera looking over his shoulder from behind, substituting himself for an actor who had just been filmed from the front while pulling the same bow. He performed many dangerous precision shots, such as knocking a war club from Basil Rathbone’s hand and shooting at running spear throwers.

By his own estimate, Howard “killed” 11 men while shooting Robin Hood. Some were shot while on galloping horses, falling to the ground with an arrow sticking out of their backs or chests. In reality, his blunted arrows had imbedded themselves into a thick block of balsa wood backed up by a steel plate, worn under their tunics. Had Howard’s aim been off by just a few inches, it could have been fatal.

Actors complained that a powerful bow he used to insure accuracy packed such an impact force that they didn’t have to fake falling from their horses; he literally knocked them off. He did all the bow shots for Errol Flynn, as well as numerous Indian battle scenes for movies like They Died With Their Boots On, Buffalo Bill, and several other films involving archery.

In a foreword to Howard’s book, Wild Adventure, Errol Flynn said, “When you meet Howard Hill you know darn well you’ve met him before, but you can’t remember where or when.“ The two became friends while on the Robin Hood set and spent many pleasant days afterward hunting, partying and fishing from Flynn’s yacht, the Sirocco, where he made one of the most incredible shots of his career.

He dropped a wooden barrel over the side, then threw the barrel’s cork after it. Quoting Ekin’s 1982 book: “While the boat and barrel were bobbing up and down on the waves, Howard proceeded to shoot the cork with an arrow that had a line attached to it. After retrieving the cork, he then shot the arrow again (with the cork still on the end of it), perfectly plugging the hole with the cork! This was made into a movie short, and can still be seen today.”

In 1940, Howard set up an archery shop in Hollywood, where he turned out some of the world’s finest bows and arrows. He made them for superstars like Gary Cooper, Roy Rogers, Iron Eyes Cody, Errol Flynn and Shirley Temple — complete with archery lessons.

By 1945, Howard had mostly given up on competitive shooting, since no one could beat him. In fact, he won 196 Field Archery tournaments in a row. His attention turned to hunting and exhibition work. He and Elizabeth built a fine, Southern-style colonial home in the middle of 10 acres in Pacoima, California, using marble imported from Sylacauga.

By the 1950s, Howard was making his own hunting movies, such as Tembo, released by RKO in 1952, which is still a film classic. In all, he produced 23 short subject films for Warner Brothers. He wrote several authoritative books on archery and big-game hunting, like Wild Adventure and Hunting The Hard Way, and has been featured in several other archery books.

In 1971, Howard was inducted into the Alabama Sports Hall of Fame. Birmingham sports editor Zipp Newman wrote, “Never has one man so completely dominated his sport as Howard Hill.”

His signature bows and arrows are still being manufactured and sold at Howard Hill Archery in Hamilton, Montana, operated by longtime friends Craig & Evie Ekin. For those interested in watching Howard’s demo films, Youtube offers more than a dozen, mostly filmed in the quaint, gender-patronizing style of the 1940-50s.

After an unparalleled lifetime of making bows, movies, and unbroken records, Howard and Elizabeth retired to a large, colonial style home they built in Vincent, which still stands today. Howard passed away in 1975 after a bout with cancer, and Elizabeth, always at his side, joined him in eternal peace less than a year later.

They now lie in repose in the Hodges’ family plot at the New Ashville Cemetery, just inside the fork of its service road. Their headstone is framed with two drawn bows, but nothing else at the site commemorates his world fame. Always the dedicated wife, Elizabeth’s marker does not show her birth date, only a final one, so as to not draw attention to the difference in their ages.

Margaret McLain describes Howard and Elizabeth’s life together as “a very long love story. She was his greatest fan.”

For a story on how Howard Hill touched the author’s life, read the print or digital version of Discover The Essence of St. Clair October & November 2014 edition.

C.A.S.P.I.R.

CASPIR-1Working to explain  the unexplainable

“From ghoulies and ghosties and
long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night
Good Lord, deliver us!”
— Traditional Scottish prayer

Story by Elaine Hobson Miller
Photography by Michael Callahan

A 4-year-old Moody boy sees a stranger in his house during the wee hours of the morning. A grown man hears footsteps from above when he’s in the basement of his Pell City business and noises from below when he’s upstairs alone.

Who do you call when you think you’ve encountered visitors from the spirit world? Priest? Psychiatrist? Ghost Hunters? How about the St. Clair County-based Central Alabama Society for Paranormal Investigation and Research (C.A.S.P.I.R.)?

“The Moody boy’s mother called me at 3 a.m. in a panic,” says Frank Lee, former Army National Guard military logistics technician and the founder and lead investigator for C.A.S.P.I.R. “The boy’s sighting wasn’t the only paranormal activity going on at their house. Cabinet doors were opening, they were hearing voices from empty rooms, and they saw a little girl.”

Lee didn’t rush over in the middle of the night. “They were Christians, so I worked with them through some prayers and scriptures, and things settled down.” When he did investigate, he found quite a lot of residual and intelligent activity. “A lot of paranormal activity that people encounter is residual energy,” Lee continues. “The popular explanation of this is the Stone Tape Theory, which says that certain materials like stone can hold energies, like an emotional or psychic imprint, whether happy, sad or whatever. A perfect example is churches, which tend to be one of the most reported haunted places we’ve encountered. Those are not evil hauntings, but emotional imprints.”

Intelligent activity, Lee says, is where the spirit answers the questions that people proffer. “In the case of the Moody home, they were sitting on the perfect storm, because they lived next door to a church, where emotions often run high.”

As for the Pell City businessman who hears footsteps, the investigation continues. On a warm Friday night in August, the C.A.S.P.I.R. team set up its instruments on the main floor of his business. The shop is in an old, one-story house, with a main level used as offices and a basement used for storage. With its piles of boxes, stud framing for rooms that no longer exist, and dark corners, the basement has the atmosphere of a Hammer Studios horror flick. The man has seen shadows and odd lights on the main level, and one day, a mist abruptly formed in an office, then just as abruptly disappeared. Most of these incidents have occurred during broad daylight.

A motley crew consisting of two blue-jeaned, 30-something men, two teenagers, a pink-haired and a punk-haired woman and a third with long blonde hair, the C.A.S.P.I.R. team looks like it would be more at home in a hard-rock band than at a paranormal investigation. Lee opened a cache of scientific and quasi-scientific instruments that included a motion-activated infrared camera, a camcorder, night-vision and infrared lights, a laser-grid projector, and something called an SB-7, or Spirit Box, that scans radio frequencies every quarter of a second. The SB-7 generates white noise, which investigators believe spirits can use to communicate with this world.

They also set out a thermobarometer to measure atmospheric conditions, because they believe that when ghosts are trying to manifest themselves, they draw energy that can create temperature fluctuations. Their EMF meter, normally used to find leaks in electrical wiring, measures any electro-magnetic field generated by spirits that might be present.

The Law of Conservation of Energy states: “Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another.” That would explain the presence of spirits in our world, says Lee. It also explains the theory behind the use of most of these instruments. The cameras sometimes pick up images that can’t be seen by the naked eye and simple voice recorders pick up electronic voice phenomena (EVP) from frequencies outside the range of the human ear.

Lee and his team came prepared with more than instruments, though. They had researched the building’s history and the geological properties of the land on which it sits. When they left, they would spend many hours poring over the data they had gathered, examining the photos closely and listening with practiced ears for any hint of other-worldly sounds.

“There are many aspects to properly handling a paranormal case, and the investigation is just the diagnostic part,” says Lee, an admitted science geek who sees himself as a serious researcher helping people rather than as a ghost hunter. “We follow up after the investigation, too, because the person involved may need counseling or to get back into church.”

This was Lee’s first trip to the Pell City business, but Donald Davis had been there several times. He says the house is inhabited by the spirit of an elderly woman named Anna, the former owner. He says her husband died in the basement, and that same man may have shot Anna’s brother to death in the back yard.

On previous trips, Donald had captured small moans, a voice saying, “Hey, I’m here,” and one complete sentence, “Do you want to go?” The latter, he says, was in response to his statement that if Anna didn’t want the team present, she should say so. He keeps going back, hoping to hear more.

Three other team members, Pink Floyd (real name), Dee Harper and Christine Grace, were present because they are mediums. Sometimes, Pink sees images or hears voices of entities inside her head, which caused her parents to send her to a psychiatrist when she was 5 years old. “I get memories of entities, like snapshots or watching a short film,” Pink says. “Some things trigger it, like certain smells that no one else can smell.”

Harper says she has always been able to see, hear and talk to spirits. “I saw a ‘real’ person in my mom’s closet as a child, but I was told it was my imagination. So I would block them (the spirit images) out. Last year, someone came into my life who helped me not to fear them, so now I tune in.”

Grace says names and numbers sometimes come to her, and she can see things others in the group can’t, like shadows, footprints or a face. “I can feel their touches, too,” she says.

While the team was setting up, their flashlight and camera batteries kept going dead, despite replenishing them with new ones. Lee had to run the instruments straight from the AC adapters, which can be common in haunted locations, he says.

Once the instruments were in place, the lights went off, and the chatter slowly faded as the team watched and listened. Donald turned on a digital recorder. The group eyed the green net light pattern on the wall, made by the laser grid projector. Street noises filtered in from outside and appliances hummed in the kitchen.

“Anna, are you still here?” Donald asked. He paused briefly, waiting for a response. “Is your husband here?” (pause) “Your brother?” (pause) “Can you tell us his name?” (pause) “Do you want us here?”

Suddenly, the laser lights flickered and dimmed. “Is that you tampering with our laser?” Lee asked. The grid stopped moving and came back to full brightness. “That was quite phenomenal, because we rarely see tampering with equipment to that level,” Lee says.

“Anna, do you know that you’ve passed away?” Donald continued. “Can you tell us how?” (pause) “Pink is here with us, do you have something to say to her?” (pause) “You said her name one time.”

Something touched Christine on the leg, causing her to jump. “I don’t know why they (spirits) like to touch me,” she says.

Later in the evening, after a curious reporter and skeptical photographer left, Brittany, Lee’s 13-year-old daughter, complained of a burning sensation on her back during an EVP session in the front office. When Lee checked her, he saw a large scratch mark that couldn’t be explained.

“She was sitting right in front of us when it happened, and there was nothing she could have leaned against in the chair to scratch her,” he says. Moments later, Brittany heard her name coming from the Echo Box, an instrument that takes random audio samples, then echoes and amplifies them, thus enabling the spirits to form words.

Other manifestations went on while the team was there, according to Lee. With everyone gathered in the same room, footsteps echoed from other parts of the house that were unoccupied. They felt knocking on the floor beneath them, as if someone were in the basement trying to make contact. Lee heard his name and Pink’s name from the Echo Box.

“When we asked, ‘How did you die?’ we heard a female voice come through the speaker that said, ‘Cancer,’” Lee claims. “We asked, ‘Who is in the basement?’ and the same female voice said, ‘My brother.’ We asked, ‘Is your brother angry?’ and received a ‘yes’ response over the system. When we asked, ‘How did your brother die?’ we received a response that said, ‘He was shot,’ which is historically accurate. We asked for names of the brother and others related to the case and the correct names came through as well. It was very compelling!”

This isn’t the scariest place Lee has encountered, however. That dubious distinction goes to a 17th-century Virginia home with a very dark past. “Me and three other investigators from a previous team were scratched and shoved there by something we couldn’t see,” he says. “We also had a case a few months ago here in Alabama where we saw a 25-pound end table thrown across the room. The people who live there had been clawed, pushed down the steps and held down and nearly suffocated. That type of activity is rare, but if you do encounter that degree of negativity and violence, you could be dealing with something demonic.”

Like the Pell City business, the end-table case remains open. “We’re working with a demonologist and the Catholic church to arrange a house blessing there,” Lee says. “If necessary, we’ll escalate the case to a full exorcism, which is also rare.”

Some investigations reveal normal causes to what people perceive as paranormal. While with a former team, Lee investigated a woman in Michigan who was having headaches, hallucinations and sleepless nights. The team found black mold and faulty electrical wiring in her rental house. When the landlord fixed those problems, the woman’s life returned to normal.

“There was no paranormal activity involved,” Lee says.

Contrary to popular opinion, paranormal activity doesn’t heighten around Halloween, according to Davis. “We see more activity in winter than summer, though, because the air is so dry and there is more static electricity,” he says. “Spirits use our energy and the energy that’s in the air to communicate with us.”

He believes that when people die tragically, they don’t always “depart” this world. “Some don’t know they’re dead and will deny it when asked,” he says.

So, where are these spirits, and why haven’t they passed on to heaven, hell or whatever Great Beyond awaits them?

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” he says.

Pumpkin Paradise

chandler-mountain-pumpkins-2Another Chandler Mountain natural wonder

Story by Carol Pappas
Photography by Wallace Bromberg Jr.

She jokingly refers to herself with the moniker, “the pumpkin lady.” If someone gets lost atop Chandler Mountain and can’t find her house, just tell the neighbors you’re looking for the pumpkin lady, she said. That’s the easiest way to reach your destination point.

It’s not difficult to get the connection. From the front gate to the house’s wrap-around porch to outside structures, they are filled with pumpkin displays — a collage of colors, sizes and varieties.

Out back and down the hill a bit, you’ll find the origin of them all —13 rows — at least 50 yards long — of more than 40 kinds of pumpkins. Cinderella (pumpkin, that is) hides beneath massive green leaves and vines. So does Fairy Tale. After all, those two started it all for Melinda Smith. But there’s plenty more, and the varying colors, sizes and looks are nothing short of amazing.

This is her 14th year of growing pumpkins, a tradition that started because a friend picked up some unusual heirloom pumpkins in Georgia — Cinderella and Fairy Tale — and gave her the seeds. Cinderella gets her name from the uncanny resemblance to Cinderella’s carriage, a similarity you immediately recognize. “It’s fun to watch them grow,” Smith said.

She could grow some to 50 pounds or more, but she likes to pick them from the field herself, so she opts for smaller versions during her growing season from the end of June to late August. “I save seeds every year,” and she orders more.

Husband Phillip is a third generation commercial tomato grower, and she shares some of the land for his crop to grow hers. She started small but the harvest seems to grow bigger each year.

Take a stroll around her yard, and you’ll find a cornucopia of color. An open air shed displays all kinds of pumpkins — large and small and in between — on shelves fashioned from old wooden tomato crates of her husband’s family business. They have names like Goosebumps Super Freak because of their bumpy exterior or Peanut Pumpkins, whose bumps resemble peanut shells.

An iron chandelier hangs from the center of the shed’s ceiling, each prong supporting a tiny orange pumpkin to give the illusion of lights. Just outside, you’ll find a display of all white pumpkins, a cotton plant acting as perfect complement.

On the other side, a shelf of pumpkins are set beneath the letters f-a-l-l, spelled out in twigs against an orange block background. It all overlooks a pond and tomato fields just beyond.

A storage building nearby isn’t your typical construction either. It looks more like a miniature home, and it, too, is filled with pumpkin displays. Its features, like the semi-rusted, corrugated metal rear wall, a fireplace mantel and the wood it took to build it are items she has saved over the years. “I’m into reusing stuff. I save old wood. I might use it one day.”

When told it’s called ‘repurposing’ these days, she laughs and says, “Of course, my husband has another name for it.”

No matter what you call it, it’s a paradise of pumpkins cleverly displayed and hinting at the discriminating, designing eye of the harvester.

And each year in the fall, she shares it all — her bounty and her talent. She holds a pumpkin patch party where people can come and buy pumpkins, enjoy the outdoors, have a few refreshments and bring the kids to play among the fruits of their parents’ finds. “We have smaller pumpkins for the kids to decorate,” she said. They even have their own table.

The party seems to have grown with the pace of her crop. Her mailing list has topped the 200-mark, and she has had more than 150 attend in years past. This year is her first weekend event, which is planned for Oct. 3-4 from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. and on Oct. 5 from noon to 2.

She is expecting a big crowd to peruse the grounds for just the right color, texture and size for seasonal decorating. And if not decorating, all the pumpkins she grows are edible, she added.

“I tell them to bring a friend,” she said. And they apparently do. Once they find the pumpkin lady, word spreads.

Tough Man Triathlon

pell-city-tough-man-2Event a huge win for Pell City community

Story by Carol Pappas
Photos by Michael Callahan

At daybreak, hundreds of athletes lined the beach at Pell City Lakeside Park in mid-August, donned swim caps and readied for the first leg of Team Magic’s Tough Man Triathlon. More than 350 three-sport athletes representing 16 states got unique views of the city — on a swim, on a bike and on foot.

The triathlon involved a 1.2-mile swim in Logan Martin Lake that began at the beach and came out at the sports complex. A 56-mile bike ride took them from the Civic Center to US 231 South to Easonville Road and Highway 55 and back again. Then they ran for 13 miles down Airport Road to Hamilton Road and returned to the starting point.

It was more than a race and a grueling competition. It was an economic shot in the arm that has promoters excited about their prospects for next year, according to Race Chairman Ofes Forman. “It was awesome,” he said.

Planners speculated that every hotel room would be filled in Pell City, but Forman confirmed it. On Friday before the event, they were 100 percent full. On Saturday, each were between 80 percent and 100 percent full.

He visited restaurants, service stations and grocery stores and heard the testimonials of booming business for himself.

The race was three years in the making with research, planning and garnering support. It was believed to be a way to showcase Pell City and the lake. And when competitors finished the race and told organizers, “‘We’ll be back next year, and we’re going to tell people about it,’” they knew the city had a winner on its hands, Forman said.

There is discussion of next year’s date taking place now. And there is talk of a possible children’s triathlon, too.

Thanks to a hard-working committee — Jerrett Jacobs and Michael Murphy as co-chairs, and Erica Grieve, Holly Murphy, Elsie McGowan and Estelle Forman — Forman called the event great exposure for the city and the lake. “It drew in new money … like a holiday,” he said. For their support, he thanked the mayor, city manager and the Council, especially Council President James McGowan and Councilman Terry Templin. It took entities coming together in partnership to make it a reality.

And it offered an opportunity to boost tourism. “I really believe Pell City can become a tourist attraction,” Forman said. “It may not be on a big scale, but it can be on a small scale. We have a lake.” To attract people to the area, “we don’t have to build anything.”

What they have apparently built is a strong foundation to bring the event back next year – bigger and better than ever.

 

Blair Farm

blair-farm-odenville-2An Odenville Landmark

Story by Carol Pappas
Photography by Wallace Bromberg Jr.

A weathered, vintage sign points the way from US 411 in Odenville. Tarnished by age, it’s hard to tell where its burgundy background ends and the rust begins. As you get a little closer, the white letters and arrow come into view, whimsically giving more specific directions: “Over Yonder.”

Follow the arrow’s path, and it leads you down Blair Farm Road to where else? Blair Farm.

In its 1950s heyday, its 240 acres hosted cattle, horses, ponies, a Clydesdale named Blue Boy Snow and a family by the name of Blair. Dwight Blair Jr., known as “Jobby,” bought the farm in 1952 and moved there with his wife, Margaret Drennen Blair, and their 2-year-old son, Dwight Blair III. Little sisters Dana and Carol would follow in the years to come.

It was the beginning of a new story for a World War II hero turned stock broker turned horse trader — or better yet, trader of all sorts — said his son Dwight III, now a prominent Pell City attorney. “He was a real wheeler dealer.”

His father would advertise horses and ponies for sale in the Birmingham News, and families would usually arrive on a Sunday to look them over. “Kids would become enamored with the ponies,” Dwight said. “They would say, ‘Dad, please let us have this pony!,’ and the father would say they would come back.” The thinly veiled excuse was they didn’t have a truck with them.

But Dwight says his father was not to be deterred from the sale. “He was a master at removing the back seat of a four-door car” to show kids and father alike just how those children’s dream actually could come true.

“Many a pony went from here with their head stuck out of the back window,” he said. Before they drove away, the wheeler dealer always added: “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll give you half of what you paid.”

The stories of his father aren’t always as lighthearted. In 1943, he was a bombardier in the Army Air Corps and was shot down in North Africa. He was in his turret, firing at a German plane and killed the fighter pilot.

The German plane started a nosedive and then quickly reversed direction, clipping the nose of the American plane. It spiraled to the ground, killing seven of his father’s crewmates. Only he and one other survived but were captured. He was wounded in his left leg, and 15 pieces of shrapnel remained. Reported missing in action, he spent more than two years in a German prison camp, escaping one time by jumping off a train. But he discovered he could not get far because of his leg injury, and he was recaptured.

In 1945, although presumed dead since his capture, he was released in a wounded prisoner exchange and headed back home to a hero’s welcome reported on the front page of the Age Herald, which later became Birmingham Post-Herald.

He went back to school at The University of Alabama and after graduation, he did post-graduate work at Wharton School of Business in Philadelphia and became a stock broker in Birmingham.

In 1946, he married Margaret Drennen, who was from a prominent Birmingham family. “Her father asked her, ‘Are you sure you want to live out in Odenville, where you will have nothing but chickens and horse manure?’ And she said, yes,” her son recounted the story his mother told him.

In 1952, they bought a small farm where Moody High School is today, but sold it and quickly bought the 240 acres on both sides of what is now Blair Farm Road.

He remained a stockbroker until 1958 when he decided to leave the big city working life behind for good and sell horses, ponies and cattle full time along with running a tractor and car lot in Leeds called Traders Inc.

He had about 50 head of cattle and 20 to 30 horses and ponies along with the farm’s familiar fixture — Blue Boy Snow — on the sprawling open pastures. “They were everywhere,” Dwight recalled as he motioned around the property. A monument to the Clydesdale, a Blair Farm resident from 1959 to 1991 who weighed more than 2,000 pounds, still stands in the shade of a towering oak tree in one of those pastures.

blair-farm-odenville-3Today’s Blair Farm looks a bit different than those early days of wide-open pastures and a homeplace probably built in the 1890s. It was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. It was replaced in 1953 with the house passersby see now. A barn, believed to be built in that same turn-of-the-century time, still remains. Its square nails rather than round ones hint at its age. “It’s amazing it has weathered time like it has,” he said, noting that its only change has been adding a metal roof.

Other weathered barns and sheds are scattered around the property.

Austin Dwight Blair, the fourth Dwight in the lineage, now helps his own father with upkeep of the land. It helps to have Sheriff Terry Surles and Probate Judge Mike Bowling cut hay from it for their cattle. And friends and family come there to relax, skeet shoot or hunt. “It’s a place where everybody comes and feels comfortable,” Austin said.

Now a broker in commercial real estate for LAH in Birmingham, Austin likes returning to the place he rode horses as a child and had his very own pony, Freddy Boy.

For Dwight, it’s full circle. Up to about age 13, he thought it was a wondrous place. But teenagers tend to gravitate toward more action, and he took advantage of every opportunity to spend time away from the farm with friends in Leeds and Birmingham.

Then it was off to college, a scholarship to play running back at Vanderbilt University and later, law school at Cumberland School of Law.

In the midst of a successful and understandably busy career, Dwight likes coming back to the quiet of what has become a “weekend place” now. He raises pheasant and quail, and a couple of German Short Haired Pointers named Hansel and Gretel seem as content to call it home as his father did.

It is a story not unlike countless family farms in and around St. Clair County. They, too, have weathered time with their own tales to tell.